


think of me

by margosfairyeye (Skittery)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Schmoop, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism, smut and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/pseuds/margosfairyeye
Summary: After an argument, Alex comes by Michael's to apologize and ends up seeing more than he expects.-- --Fill for Kinktober Day 21: exhibitionism/voyeurism
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 134





	think of me

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Kinktober Day 21: exhibitionism/voyeurism
> 
> \-- --  
> cw: Alex accidentally sees Michael masturbating outside, and ends up staying to watch with Michael's consent; the d/s is the under-negotiated kink because they're kind of feeling their way through it.

Alex drove slowly towards the junkyard, parking his car just outside the fence, so that he could walk in on foot—so that he could give Michael more time to see him coming, more time to decide if he wanted to see Alex. The fight hadn’t been that bad, but it had been bad enough that they’d both stormed off, needed time to cool down, to remember that just because this was sometimes difficult didn’t mean that it wasn’t worthwhile. 

And now, an entire day later, late at night, Alex was crawling back to Michael’s Airstream, ready to apologize. He’d missed Michael the night before when he’d lay in bed alone, missed him more than Alex had expected—after all, they’d spent more nights alone than together over the past twelve years, but in just a few short weeks he’d gotten used to the warm, comforting presence of Michael lying next to him, gotten used to waking up with a kiss, or more. Going to sleep alone, Alex had slept restlessly, waking up reaching for Michael before remembering he wasn’t there. Nothing was worth losing each other again, and Alex was fully prepared to actually talk, to resolve the fight and go back to each other with no reservations. 

There was still that nagging worry though—that Michael might not have missed Alex, that maybe he liked sleeping alone, that maybe he’d been thinking and come to the exact opposite conclusion as Alex. So Alex parked outside the fence and crept in, making sure he wasn’t going to catch Michael unawares but also wasn’t announcing himself with headlights and engine rumble. 

The junkyard was quiet, and dark—far past the time that Sanders would either be drunk or asleep, and Alex felt his anticipation rising with every step forward he took. A sound suddenly rang through the air, a choked-off yell, and Alex paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t have anything to use as a makeshift weapon, if there was trouble, and—fuck, if there was trouble, if  _ Michael _ was in trouble on one of the two nights they hadn’t spent together in the past few weeks, Alex would never forgive himself. 

He walked carefully towards Michael’s Airstream and ducked down behind a wreck a few feet away, peering into the darkness. Michael was there, sitting in one of his lawn chairs, with a low fire burning down in front of him, but he didn’t look hurt, or like he was in trouble, or anything. Alex breathed out in relief, but he kept hidden, watching Michael just to be sure he was fine. 

Which is when he noticed that Michael wasn’t just sitting in front of his Airstream staring at the dim fire; he was sitting in front of his Airstream with his cock out, stroking it slowly and making low, choked off sounds. 

Alex felt his trepidation immediately give way to arousal, simmering low in his stomach, his cock filling as he watched Michael touch himself. 

The thing was, Alex had seen Michael’s cock lots of times by now—hell, he’d even watched Michael touch himself before—but it had never been like  _ this _ , never out in the open where anyone could see, but where Michael clearly thought he wasn’t in danger of being seen. It felt private, and dangerous, and Alex was torn between wanting to leave and give Michael his privacy and staying where he was, stuck in place by the power of how incredibly hot it was. 

Michael shifted in his chair, sliding down so he was sitting less upright, so he could get a better grip on himself. In the dim light shed by the fire, Alex could see the way Michael was touching himself—varying the speed, moving between stroking himself fully and rubbing his hand around the head of his cock, moaning. 

Alex stood as still as he’d ever stood, his cock throbbing in his pants, his breath coming quick, his hands gripping the open window of the wreck hard enough to make an indentation across his palm. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, just like that,” Michael groaned and Alex’s cock ached. Michael’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed and his mouth slack, his chest heaving with his breaths as he worked over his cock. 

Alex wondered if Michael was thinking about someone,  _ who _ Michael was thinking about. They hadn’t discussed celebrity crushes, or anything—they’d been so busy with the important topics that they hadn’t really gotten to the frivolous ones yet—but now Alex wanted to know. He wanted to know if Michael was imagining someone on their knees in the dirt, sucking his cock, or if he was imagining someone straddling him, riding him hard in the firelight, or if he was imagining a completely different scenario, getting fucked while he stroked his own cock, pressed back against a mattress or a wall. 

Alex pressed a hand carefully to his own cock, rubbing his palm against it through the fabric, as if that could help slake the desire. Instead, it just fanned the flames, and Alex grit his teeth against a moan, keeping his eyes fixed on Michael. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” Michael moaned. 

Alex frowned. Michael didn’t call  _ anyone _ that, that he knew of—it was the kind of endearment that both of them found uncomfortable to say genuinely, and Alex wondered which fantasy person commanded something like that out of Michael. He wasn’t jealous, not really—the fantasy wasn’t anywhere near as real as they were, fight or no fight—but he wanted to ask Michael what he was thinking of, wanted to make as much fantasy real for Michael as he could. 

Maybe Alex would wait here until Michael was done, and then come forward, and apologize, and fervently hope that Michael would let him inside, would let him follow up the fantasy, and not be too disappointed with the reality of Alex. Michael moaned again and Alex refocused, rubbing his palm across the line of his cock again, trying to keep himself from spiraling because of nothing. Michael liked him, Michael  _ loved _ him, and Alex knew that, as well as he knew that he was ruined for anyone else, that every fantasy he’d ever had had included Michael, as ridiculous as that sounded. 

“Fuck.” Michael was stroking himself a little more firmly now, and Alex watched his throat bob as he swallowed and licked his lips. “Fuck, Alex.”

Alex blinked, squeezing his cock almost accidentally, out of surprise. Michael was thinking about  _ him _ ?

Suddenly, the fight didn’t seem as important as it had when Alex arrived, suddenly Alex didn’t care about anything but going to Michael, but reaffirming to Michael that he was all Alex wanted, that they would work it out. That being each other’s fantasies only strengthened Alex’s resolve that they work on the reality. 

“Alex,” Michael moaned his name again, and Alex closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed with desire. 

He swallowed, steeling his decision, and moved away from the wreck, walking swiftly towards Michael. 

“Michael,” he said quietly, sitting down in the lawn chair opposite him, and Michael’s eyes flew open. 

“Alex,” he croaked, raising his head, his hand stilling. He looked worried for a moment, and then seemed to see Alex’s expression, and smiled tentatively. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“Oh, no?” Alex teased, and he could see on Michael’s face when he registered that Alex had heard, that he’d been watching, and Michael groaned at the realization. “Don’t stop.” He motioned at Michael’s hand. “Unless you don’t want me to watch.”

Michael shook his head, and started moving his hand on his cock again, his eyes on Alex while Alex watched him eagerly. “I don’t mind,” he said, nonchalant except for the way his voice cracked, except for the excitement lighting up his eyes. 

“Slower,” Alex said firmly, and to his slight surprise Michael obeyed, slowing his hand and stroking himself painfully slowly. Alex could see the precum dripping from the tip, could see as Michael spread it over his cock slowly and deliberately. Alex pressed his palm to his cock again, but didn’t go any farther. 

“Tell me what you were imagining,” Alex said, then quickly added, “if you want to.”

Michael laughed hoarsely, still dragging his hand so slowly over his cock. “You, always you. You— _ fuck _ —sucking me off and then fucking me right here. I—I would sit on your lap, facing out like I was just sitting in the chair alone, and you would slide into me and fuck me so good, and I would just have to pretend nothing was happening, so no one from the road would see.” Michael’s voice cracked again, but Alex was hanging on every word, barely able to breathe—definitely a fantasy he would have to file away for another day. “And,” Michael’s face went slightly red, but he kept eye contact, “you would whisper in my ear, tell me how good I was being, touch me and fuck and tell me I was being— _ fuck. _ ” 

Michael arched up in the chair, thrusting his hips into nothing, his own words and his slow strokes on his cock overwhelming him. 

Alex took a breath and a chance. “You  _ are _ being good. Touching yourself just like I told you to.” He knew it was right when Michael shuddered, moaning loudly. Alex’s cock was throbbing, and he wanted so badly to pull it out, to stroke himself alongside Michael, but he resisted, for now. “Stroke yourself faster,” he said, and Michael immediately sped up. 

It felt heady, and powerful, and like he was doing something for both of them, since they were clearly both getting something out of this. It wasn’t taking the place of the apology, but it was a reminder of what he wanted—that he wanted to take care of Michael, to make sure Michael got everything he wanted. 

“Fuck your hand,” Alex said, watching as Michael started to jerk his hips up, thrusting into his fist, moving quickly and sharply. It was glorious to watch. “So good,” he said quietly, and Michael groaned, smiling, and thrusting up harder. 

Alex watched Michael’s hips work, his thighs tensing against the chair, his head thrown back again, lost in his pleasure, but still clearly listening to Alex. Alex could tell when Michael was getting close—and no wonder, since he didn’t know how long Michael had been doing this before he arrived—the way his hips started to stutter, the tiny gasping breaths, the quick moans, his cock shiny with precum as it slid through his fist. 

Alex took a deep breath, pressing against his cock, trying to keep from cumming in his pants like a teenager. “Be good and cum for me, Michael.” 

Michael cried out, almost immediately following Alex’s words, his eyes closing and his hips thrusting unevenly up into his fist and his hand tightening around his cock as he came. Alex watched raptly, licking his lips as cum striped across Michael’s fist, some of it landing on his thighs and on the ground. 

Michael slumped back against the chair, breathing heavily, and opened his eyes, looking hazily over at Alex. “Hi,” he said slowly. 

Alex laughed. “Hi.” He wanted to stand up and go over to Michael, but they still hadn’t talked about the fight, and he didn’t want to assume that sex made anything different. 

“Are you going to come kiss me or not?” Michael asked, and Alex was up like a shot, crossing the short distance and leaning down to catch Michael’s lips in a deep, desperate kiss. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, quietly, when they broke apart. “For yesterday. I came over to say that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Michael said, equally quietly, his hand still loosely wrapped around his cock while the other one stroked across Alex’s cheek. 

Michael leaned up to kiss him again, and Alex almost couldn’t believe that was it—that they could both just apologize like adults and move on. No hidden feelings, no regrets, no resentment. It felt like a huge step forward. 

“Guess we did this backwards,” Alex said, laughing a little bit. “Makeup sex first, apology second.”

Michael looked pointedly at the outline of Alex’s still-hard cock, wrapping his clean hand around the side of Alex’s thigh and stroking his thumb across it gently. “I think there’s still some makeup sex possibilities in our future.”

Alex smiled, feeling giddy and off-balance and  _ happy _ . “Oh, yeah?”

Michael smiled, sated and somehow still suggestive, and stood up slowly, tangling his fingers with Alex’s and leading him towards the door to the Airstream. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Alex let Michael pull him inside, half his mind thinking about what Michael’s ideas might be, about how much he wanted to fuck Michael and tell him he was good, he was perfect, he was everything; while the other half was still marveling at the fact that he was still allowed to have this, that Michael still wanted him and that a fight wasn’t the end of the world the way he’d been afraid it would be, that they could recover and it would still feel perfect. 

Alex let Michael pull him inside, and decided he never wanted to miss Michael next to him during the night again, he never wanted to let a fight go on this long, he never wanted to hold his pride above what they had together, their hands intertwined. 


End file.
